


Mark Time

by Tabithian



Category: Batgirl (Comic), Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing - Fandom, Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Crack, Gen, Marching Band AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 16:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim doesn't really think about it and he knows Steph and the others don't either, but band camp is one of his favorite times of year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark Time

**Author's Note:**

> Everything started with this post, and then somehow spiraled out into this. Also. I'm basing the location of the band camp off of [Camp Rilea](http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/facility/camp-rilea.htm), where my own high school marching band went during spring break on the years we didn't travel out of state for competitions. Our usual band camp took place at our high school, but that's not as interesting. :)
> 
> Also, because I forget not everyone was a band nerd, I posted [a mini-primer/101 on marching band](http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/28992451439/marching-band-primer-101).

Tim doesn't really think about it and he knows Steph and the others don't either, but band camp is one of his favorite times of year. Maybe not the hours of practice running through the drill over and over and over again until they get it right. Maybe not that, but it's a part of it. 

Just like section leaders running their sections through scales and arpeggios to warm up is part of it. Working out troublesome parts of a song, breaking them down into small sections until they can play them with confidence. Talking to each other about the show or classes, faces alight with happiness and laughter or sympathy over a tough teacher. 

Practice won't start for another hour, so Tim is using the time to wander around and observe, taking pictures for the memory book Dick and Steph decided they needed once band camp was over. (“Like a year book, but so, so much better, Tim. Please?”)

They did the official group pictures on the first day of band camp. Everyone still freshly showered and wearing clean clothes (that never lasts long at band camp) and looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, or so Steph would put it. 

That never lasts long either. People staying up past lights out like they're at a slumber party playing games of Truth or Dare or hands of Bastard and Speed. People sneaking out of the barracks to run riot in the mock town the military units use for training and staging ambushes with water guns and water balloons and getting in trouble when Bruce, Dick, Jason and the parent chaperones catch on. (When Dick and Jason aren't out there with them, leading individual units to greater heights of lunacy at any rate.)

Picture perfect for the sake of the parents who were foolish enough to send their kids off for two weeks of band camp at a military training camp the school rented out. 

Now, though. Now Tim's taking candid pictures of everyone. No one's perfectly put together anymore, long hair pulled back in messy ponytails, grass and food stains marring their shirts. Skin sunburned and beginning to tan, freckles sprouting like wildfire, but most importantly, natural, relaxed.

Tim looks up when he hears an exited whoop, not all that surprised to see Kon, Bart outpacing him by the barest margin, both of them smiling and laughing like they're having the time of their lives. Their very short lives, Tim amends in his mind when he sees an enraged Cassie hot on their heels with what looks like half the woodwind section trailing behind her. 

“Hey, Tim!” Kon and Bart yell in unison as they run past, and God, Tim really needs to do something about the two of them hanging out so much without proper supervision.

“Where did they go?” Cassie demands a moment later, full of righteous fury and the obvious desire to teach Kon and Bart a lesson about messing with the woodwinds. 

Tim points vaguely in the direction Kon and Bart ran off in, hoping they're smart enough to know Tim's not going to cover for them. “Just.” Tim sighs. “Don't hurt them too much, okay?”

Cassie smiles, teeth gleaming in the tight, strained. “Don't worry, they'll still be able to march,” she says, like that's supposed to reassure Tim. 

He watches Cassie and her miniature army of very angry teenagers run off like a pack of hunting dogs – or wolves. Wolves works better in this instance and Tim actually feels sorry for Kon and Bart. They don't mean any harm, they're just very, very dumb sometimes.

Tim shakes his head and heads towards the dunes where the color guard likes to set up for practice. He finds Steph at the top of a dune dotted with scraggly sand grass, huddled in a purple ( _eggplant_ ) hoodie, strands of hair whipping around her face in the wind. 

“Hey, Tim,” Steph greets, patting the sand next to her. “Pull up a seat, Dick has the rifles doing warm-ups.”

Tim smiles and sits next to her, cradling his camera carefully against his chest. He's always a little leery about bringing it out on the dunes, but. But there's Dick and the color guard lined up in rows with practice flags in their hands flying through the air in neat arcs, the snap of the fabric sharp and clear even from where they're sitting. 

There are the sabers off to the side, Rose keeping a sharp eye on her team while they check their equipment, making sure their sabers are in working order. Some wrapping tape on the hilts of their sabers, others talking and laughing. 

And then there are the rifles, Cass leading them through basic tosses and spins. She prefers working with the flags, but with Mia out sick, Dick needs her helping the rifles. 

He can feel Steph watching him, smiling as he takes pictures. Amused, fond. 

“Oooh. Cass is getting better at that,” Steph says, mouth curved in a delighted smile as she watches Cass and the other rifle members doing tosses, Dick counting time, looking pleased with their progress.

_Perfect_.

“I didn't even think that was possible,” Tim says, lowering his camera when Steph glances at him, eyebrow raised. 

“Did you just take my picture?” Steph asks, mock glaring. “I'm not exactly magazine cover material right now, you know.”

Tim edges back, ready to jump to his feet in case she's feeling playful. He can't help the smile, even knowing it's only going to get him in trouble. “Oh, I noticed.”

Steph growls, lunging for Tim, but he's already on his feet and running back down the dune towards the barracks, Steph a heartbeat behind him yelling and laughing and _this_. This is what he loves about band camp.


End file.
